


In Which Aunt Muriel Bites Off More Than Anyone Involved Can Chew by scarredsodeep

by scarredsodeep



Category: AFI
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Misunderstandings, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-03
Updated: 2008-09-07
Packaged: 2018-03-05 00:01:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 13,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3097463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarredsodeep/pseuds/scarredsodeep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meddlesome but well-meaning, Aunt Muriel know just the thing to fix her sweet neighbor Jade's newly broken heart: a date with her nephew! All right, maybe Adam's not the nicest guy, but ever since that boy--or at least, she thinks it was a boy; her eyesight's not the best these days--broke Jade's heart, he's needed something to perk him up...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The No-Good Nephew

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own the boys. These events are purely contrived and will never happen.

Muriel fixed her nephew with a grin over the rim of her tea cup. At seventy-two, she was just over five feet tall and weighed 93 pounds. Her hair was a bluish puff around her head, and her hands shook with rheumatic arthritis. She should not have been a dangerous woman, but one look at those bright blue eyes told Adam she still was.

“I’ve found someone for you,” Muriel pronounced. Adam was surprised, as usual, by the peculiar strength in his great-aunt’s voice. It was still deep, full, and husky; it didn’t match the thin, frail woman it came out of. The combination of reedy, delicate old lady and fully, throaty tone made it almost impossible to disagree with her. You were one part sympathetic to her frailty and one part totally cowed by the vigor of her insistence. Muriel rarely had to ask for things twice.

Adam tried nonetheless. He already visited her every second Tuesday—far more often than he’d like to see the old broad. That was obedience enough from a headstrong balls-out twenty-two year old. It might be futile, but he had to try.

“Aunt Muriel,” he said gently. The gentleness was why he, and everyone else, always lost; they spoke to Muriel’s arthritic shell, not the crackling mind inside her. “I’m not looking for anyone right now.”

Muriel rolled her shining eyes. She liked her nephew well enough, she supposed. Family was family, and she liked the company. He just didn’t seem to be the brightest boy in the Carson line. _She_ wasn’t stupid, to be certain; she knew he spent his weekends at the bars and the clubs like everyone else his age. Of _course_ he was looking for someone! Sometimes Muriel thought that looking for someone was the whole point of life, and the only worthwhile pastime. No, that was one excuse that wasn’t going to work on her.

“Now, I remember that boy Hunter I met all those years ago,” Muriel spoke above her nephew’s feeble protestations, “and I think you’ll like this one even better.”

Adam fought exasperation. Just a little old lady—you couldn’t reach across the wicker table and shake a little old lady, no matter how much you wanted to. But the old bat already bullied him into having lunch in this stuffy apartment, where there was more potpourri to breathe than air; he had better things to do! The last thing he intended to do was go on a stupid blind date because Aunt Muriel thought she’d _found_ someone for him. Especially if that someone reminded her of his high school boyfriend. Hunt had never really been his type: strong-willed and outspoken, clever and bold, attractive in a strictly lovable kind of way.

Funny, but those kind of qualities, the ones that made you want to stick around, he didn’t like those things. Adam thought back to the boy he’d spent Saturday night with. Hair dyed black and straightened to fall into wet blue eyes; smoky eyeliner, pouting lips; jeans painted on, t-shirt tight enough to advertise a taut, pierced nipple. Adam had approved wholeheartedly of Trevor; he’d been the perfect supplicant. His lips were as soft as the mewling cries of his need; Adam smirked, remembering the night. It hadn’t been Trevor’s usual thing; he’d been at the bar because his roommate’s band was playing. Just looking at him, all soft and quivering, you could tell he wasn’t a one-night stand kind of guy; so Adam had called him ‘sweetheart’ and gone along with planning a picnic for Sunday afternoon, given him a fake phone number and a thousand sweet smiles, and even kissed him before he left, promising to call.

That was a pretty typical weekend for Adam. Bar, cigarettes, hard-to-get feminine scene boy (preferably with a submissive vein), bedroom, cigarettes, sex and then cheerful deception. And he saw no reason to change. As long as he was a predator, he’d never be prey—and hunting was just so _fun_.

Muriel fixed Adam with her very worst stare. I’ve fed you, that stare said. I have given you more generous birthday gifts than anyone else in the family. And now, even though I can’t make it across the apartment without a cane, I have gone out of my way to set you up with a very nice gay boy. Those are hard to find, you know. So don’t even _think_ about saying you’re not interested, and if you placate me and stand him up I _will_ find out about it.

“Okay, Aunt Muriel. Sounds like fun,” Adam caved, knowing resistance was futile. She’d brought out the big guns.

Muriel smiled beatifically. It was about time her no-good nephew did something for her.

  
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

This story archived at <http://www.afislash.com/viewstory.php?sid=7329>  



	2. Hell's Sofa

Jade lay prone on his tattered couch and thought about killing himself. He thought about this in much the same way he’d earlier considered opening the blinds. Sure, there were plenty of good reasons out there; he was pathetic, alone, depressed, and there was a screaming black hole where his heart had been, up until Alex had torn it out and jumped up and down on it. (Or, alternately, it had been so long since he’d seen light he’d forgotten what it looked like, and the whole apartment was beginning to smell like his feet.)

In the end, though, he decided against it, for much the same reason the blinds were still closed. He didn’t have it in him to get up off the couch. It was his self-appointed pit of despair, and there was no need ever to leave it.

That’s when the pounding on his door began. “Open up, Jade!” he heard the muffled interruption of his dear brother. Didn’t Smith know he was wasting away to a shadow of his former self, and it was a pretty time-consuming process? “If you’re alive, let me in!”

Jade moaned piteously. I’m sorry I missed your call, I’m feeling sorry for myself right now and can’t come to the phone. If you leave a message, I’ll be sure to tear my phone out of the wall and use the cord to hang myself. Beeeep.

“Are you dead?” Smith’s voice came again, in between the pounding.

“If I was dead, you’d be able to smell it,” Jade finally called out, irritated. What was Smith doing here, interrupting his wallowing? Wasn’t he supposed to be in school or something? Jade wondered what day of the week it was, and rolled off the couch unceremoniously. He landed painfully on his shoulder. The resultant thud introduced new levels of knocking frenzy, and Jade flung the door open only seconds before it burst apart in splinters.

Instead of being happy to see his virile, if not exactly thriving, brother, Smith looked at Jade as if he wanted to hit him. “What in the hell!” was his exact greeting.

Jade scowled. _This_ was what he dragged himself out of self-loathing a misery for? A waste of time. “Hello, how are you, Jade? Oh, I’m fine, thanks for asking,” he prattled bitterly.

Smith moved faster than the naked eye could detect, sending Jade’s glasses flying as he captured his brother in a lightspeed headlock.

“I got a phone call from some old woman,” Smith growled. “She told me that she hadn’t seen any sign of you in almost a week, and that you might even be dead. Apparently that’s what her friends do these days: die. It was a happy conversation, let me tell you. She was very concerned.”

“Well, look, I’m here and alive unless you squeeze any tighter,” Jade gurgled, Adam’s apple crushed against his brother’s surprisingly thick arm. But as sarcastic as he tried to sound, Jade was feeling guilty. Muriel—he usually visited with his elderly neighbor three or four times a week. Even her cat loved him. He hoped she had someone take her grocery shopping. He usually did that.

Suddenly Jade felt selfish. He’d made people worry about him. Muriel was probably lonely—her only other visitor was her scumbag nephew, and Jade didn’t approve of him. He was one of the most selfish people Jade had ever heard stories about, if not actually met.

Not that he could really talk about being selfish. Not only was his brother crushing his windpipe, but he had been selfish. Wallowing in the cruel agony of heartbreak, while seeming like a perfectly valid extracurricular, was self-absorbed. He had a job. He had friends. Well, Muriel at least. If she was his age, they’d be married by now. Sometimes he thought she was his soulmate. And he had Smith, which was maybe a good thing, and maybe not. Alex had made a valiant effort to ruin his life—he didn’t have to go ahead and finish the job on his own.

Jade even resolved to open the blinds, if Smith ever let go of him.

Apparently reading his brother’s mind, Smith released Jade. While Jade approached the blinding threshold of sunlight, Smith asked the Question. The question Jade knew would define every conversation he had for the next few months. Hell, the rest of his life. Jade had been thinking about how he’d answer the Question in great depth over the last few days. Every answer he’d come up with reduced him to tears.

“What happened, man?” Smith asked, frowning at the squalor that had become his brother’s once orderly apartment. “You’re a mess.” He paused, and then asked before he could think better of it: “Where’s Alex?”

Jade’s eyes filled up. Halfway to the blinds, he slumped down onto the couch of despair. Screw the world! He’d be selfish. “Alex left me,” he moaned, voice lost to the thick, rounded consonants of drawn-out tears.

Smith sat down at his brother’s side. “I’m sorry, Jade,” he said quietly. “Do you know why?”

“It’s my fault,” Jade sniffled. “I pried. I wasn’t trusting enough.”

“What do you mean? Alex didn’t leave you over a standard invasion of privacy. You guys were way too in love for that,” Smith asked, a little surprised. It wasn’t like his brother to go through other people’s things, or even dig into their personal life.

Jade nodded heavily. “I suspected—I thought that maybe—” Tears choked his voice. “I surprised Alex at work. One of those ‘don’t wait up, Jade, I’ll be staying very late’ nights. I was trying… I was trying to be sweet. And… and… there was someone else. Another man.”

Smith’s heart went out to his brother’s grief, it really did. But something about this story was very wrong. “Hold on. Alex cheats on you, and it’s your fault?”

Jade nodded miserably. “I’ve never seen anyone so angry. Alex never wants to see me again.” Something terrifying occurred to Jade. He pleaded desperately, “Please don’t tell Mom.”

“Tell her what? That her firstborn has gone mad? Somehow I don’t think the fact that Alex slept around and it’s magically _your_ fault the relationship ended is something I’m going to bring up,” Smith said, sounding somewhat disgusted. “No, that’s a privilege I’m going to reserve for you.”

Jade didn’t seem to catch the gist of his brother’s diatribe. “Thanks, Smith,” he said, managing a weak smile.  
“I knew there was a reason you’re my favorite brother.”

Exasperated, Smith bounced to his feet. “Your surrogate grandma had one other thing I’m supposed to tell you,” he said, forgoing any grace of delivery. “You have a date Friday night. Eight o’clock at that diner at Murieta and Berkshire with the good soy burgers.”

  
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

This story archived at <http://www.afislash.com/viewstory.php?sid=7329>  



	3. Intervention

“Muriel!” Jade bellowed, beating his fist against the old woman’s door.

The door swung open almost as if she’d been expecting him. Her blue eyes gleamed with ferocity. “I thought you’d died,” she greeted him morbidly. Muriel had seemed a sweet old woman at first. But now her true nature had been revealed: she was hard-assed and crotchety.

Jade didn’t mind. Give or take a few dozen years, Muriel was his kind of woman. “Oh no, you don’t get to be put off!” Jade announced before her guilt invocation could even begin. “This time it’s _my_ feathers that have been ruffled!”

Another thing about spending time with Muriel was that some of her phrases inevitably rubbed off on you.

Muriel pulled her most innocent face, and Jade immediately felt his anger start to slip away.

“It’s this date you’ve set up,” Jade told her, but it was suddenly hard to remember why he was so upset by a nice gesture from a friend.

“I think it’ll be just the thing to cheer you up,” she said sweetly. “It will distract you at the very least.” Muriel looked up, craning her neck. Jade was more than ten inches taller than she was, but she had never been daunted by a little thing like height, even when height was not such a little thing after all. Her eyes blazed into his. “I know how you get,” she went on softly, in the voice of a much younger woman. “I don’t want grief to swallow you up.”

Muriel remembered Jade’s last break-up. She’d met him just after, when he’d declared himself a shut-in for life and given up on showering altogether. She’d wondered why such a nice young man was so unhappy, and asked him. It was Jade’s first venture out of the apartment in a week, and he was not equipped to deal with assault in the mail room by a sweet old lady, and he’d been so startled he answered honestly. Hearing his woeful tale of love lost, Muriel had insisted he take her to lunch at her favorite diner. She remembered insisting, “It’s just down the street. It’ll only take moments.” That’s how their friendship had begun, and it was true: Muriel knew him very well. They’d known each other for two or three years. Muriel was a good listener, Jade was a good talker, and she was damn intuitive. And she was right: mourning would devour his life if no one intervened.

Well, Muriel was intervening. A date would be good for Jade, and Jade would be good for her nephew. As long as Jade went along with it, of course. He was the only one who stood a chance against her.

“It’s way too soon,” Jade told her, staring straight into her clear eyes. Jade despaired of her age. He knew he mind was still strong and fresh; it shone in her eyes, resonated in her full voice. If only she had the youth to match it, he would have been in love with her, crazy about her. He couldn’t brush her off as an old bag; he felt too strongly the spirit inside.

“Too soon?” Muriel clucked. “You’d wait until you were as withered as me if I let you. If you want to forget this too-good-for-piss hussy, you have to start trying.”

For an old woman, Muriel had afoul tongue. Jade grinned fondly in spite of himself. “You’re really just doing this for me?” he asked her, teasing.

Muriel smiled. It was a smile Adam had never seen; it made her sharp, stern face smooth in a portrait of warmth. Jade was accustomed to it. He knew that, when she was young, the smile had been beautiful.

“All right,” Jade decided. “I’ll do it. But only for you, Muriel—don’t do me any more favors just yet. I’m just not ready to get over Alex. It’d be like losing everything. Forget Alex, and I forget the two greatest years of my life.”

Muriel placed her cool, papery hand on his. “You think _Alex_ is what made those years great? Pah! You never needed Alex. It was wonderful because you had _me_. I’m your leading lady!”

Jade laughed out loud. No matter how miffed he’d been only moments earlier, Muriel could always make him smile.

  
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

This story archived at <http://www.afislash.com/viewstory.php?sid=7329>  



	4. The Hallelujah Chorus

Adam drummed his fingers on the tabletop, which was already greasy. Aunt Muriel had picked the crappiest diner in town just to spite him, he was sure of it. Unless pre-greased tables were some new luxury he didn’t know about. Yeah, that was likely.

The whole place was a 1950s throwback. Red vinyl booths and lacquered table tops. There was a counter with stools and a jukebox. The waitresses wore tight yellow dresses and looked miserable. One was chewing gum. Her blond curls were a frizz about her face and she smacked her lips like a cow, approaching the table. “You ready to order yet?” she asked gracelessly.

This being his first-ever blind date, and his first at-all date in several years, Adam might have picked somewhere different. “I’m still waiting for someone,” he told her through clenched teeth. He thought that was pretty obvious, since he was still sitting alone at his crappy, greasy table.

Adam thought about it. Somewhere different: well, where _would_ he have picked? Someplace romantic? Definitely not. Someplace nice? Unlikely. He wasn’t looking for a cozy bonding experience, just a meal, and sex if he could get it. He didn’t know where Muriel was meeting eligible bachelors, but he doubted any of them were the kind of guy _anyone_ would be attracted to. He suddenly wished he’d asked more questions about the guy.

So what was this? An awkward, uncomfortable, probably greasy meal, dead-ended and morally ambiguous.

Adam laughed to himself. The crappy diner was perfect. He himself could not have picked a better venue for what was sure to be one of the worst evenings of his life. Maybe he didn’t give Muriel enough credit after all.

Every time someone walked in the door, a little bell chimed. As if trained by Pavlov himself, Adam’s neck twisted every time, eager to evaluate the newest customer.

This time, though, he couldn’t look away. Hazel eyes and muddy reddish hair cut close to his head, long slim legs and dusty freckles. Thick-framed glasses, brushed by long eyelashes, and full, pink lips. The cheekbones were high but the face stayed sweet, almost childish. The eyes swam with a drowning hurt that made it impossible to look away, a loss and a need that Adam was pretty sure sex would fill. The man’s body was lost on Adam, though he would have liked it; a small waist, a clinging black sweater with a button-up underneath, tight faded jeans. He was lost in heartbroken eyes.

The door fell closed and the spell was broken. Adam ended his stare, blushing. You could stare in a bar, grope strangers in a night club. But in a diner? At a diner he was just being lecherous, horny, and gross. You had to be senile to get away with that kind of thing.

Adam glanced back with a harmless smile this time, trying to look unthreatening and less like a rapist. The man still stood in the doorway, face changed in some kind of strange dread. If this was his blind date, Adam would never have a bad thought about Aunt Muriel again. He made a promise to God: if this was his blind date, he would stop fantasizing about smashing her collection of little porcelain kittens. Promise.

The man took a hesitant step towards Adam’s table, and he rejoiced.

“You’re… Adam, right?” the man asked, and his voice was lower than Adam had guessed. It was soft and hesitant, but you could hear how warm it usually was. It was a voice that always held laughter, some small joy, whenever it was used. Today was a sad exception.

Adam offered his hand. “I am,” he said, trying to keep his cool. He’d never have found a man so striking in a thousand night clubs—he was lucky indeed if life had deigned to send this creature straight to him.

The man took Adam’s hand for a brief shake, made awkward by the vast difference in height. Adam realized as the soft hand slipped out of his that he probably should have stood, shown off his stature. He was tall, with broad shoulders, muscular legs. Any femme boy would swoon once he flashed his most perfect smile.

“I’m Jade,” the most wonderful blind date in history said, still fidgeting awkwardly. Maybe he was still shy about his sexuality, Adam thought with a grin. Maybe it would be his first time with another man.

“Please, sit,” Adam invited, rubbing at the stubble on his strong chin. He was getting excited just _thinking_ about taking Jade. He vowed to buy Muriel the biggest bouquet he could find if Jade put out.

Jade sat, clasping his large, long-fingered hands together. Framed by the slight V-neck of his sweater, a small silver pendant hung in the hollow of his throat. Adam imagined taking it in his teeth, letting it drop cold and wet onto Jade’s bare chest…

Adam shivered, and hoped Jade hadn’t noticed.

Jade was too busy looking puzzled, fine brows furrowed. “Muriel’s nephew, right?” he clarified, second-guessing himself.

“Absolutely. She’s great. She’s absolutely wonderful,” Adam exalted, and he meant it. He had never loved his crazy old aunt more. Had he ever loved her at all? He’d noticed in his youth that old people smelled funny, and never quite forgiven them for it.

“Did she… send you here?” Jade asked. Apparently he didn’t understand the principles of a blind date. That was okay. Adam would have forgiven him anything. Anyway, if there was one thing he’d learned, it was the dumber, the better.

Adam nodded, some heat filling his gaze. How was he going to make it through a meal? He was more than a little excited. If this went on much longer, he’d be in pain.

Jade looked even more confused. For the first time, Adam worried that his prey didn’t find him attractive. It was a very well-lit diner. It probably cast his overly Roman nose in a very unflattering relief. Adam gave himself a mental once-over. Coarse hair, dark; tan skin; decent build, good definition; masculine stubble; eyes as blue and bright as his great aunt’s. He knew he had a winning smile. He had to be Jade’s type. He was everyone’s type. All-American good looks, right?

Except that Adam knew he wasn’t very handsome. Usually he was okay with that. Self-confidence and charisma, that was how he got men. Usually the sensitive insecure ones reached out with envy for his easy self-possession; it was a simple parlor trick to turn it into lust.

Was Jade immune? Adam let out a silent prayer. _Please, God, I did all that communion shit for you. I just need this one guy to want me. Thanks._

Hopefully the god he sometimes, sort of, when it was convenient, believed in wouldn’t hold the whole gay thing against him.

Jade smiled apologetically, and Adam practically heard the choir of angels. It was a hell of a smile. His teeth were a little crooked, his cheeks round and boyish; and his eyes filled with laughter. Adam, who was not sentimental, almost melted.

In that moment Adam knew he’d give anything to sleep with Jade. No matter what it took, this was his new quarry. Forget the rest. They were two-dimensional and empty. Like the best food you’ve ever eaten, until he’d had Jade any other man was going to turn to ash in his mouth. Adam vowed that any ruse, deception, or unorthodox method was worth it. Whatever it took, he’d have this conquest. He didn’t know why this particular lay meant so much to him, but it seemed important. Fucking someone so beautiful and innocent would finally fill the ugly hole Hunter had left. This was the one. If he could desecrate Jade and walk away grinning, he knew that the lovesick fool who’d been betrayed, beaten, and tirelessly persecuted in high school would finally be gone. It was something about Jade. He screamed ‘turning point’.

Outside of Adam’s fantasies, the real Jade was speaking.

“Forgive me, it’s just that I was supposed to meet someone else here tonight. I think. Maybe Muriel got things mixed up. Maybe I did,” he said, sounding unconvinced.

It was Adam’s turn to be confused. Reverie shattered, his frown mirrored Jade’s. “I’m sorry, who were you expecting?” Adam asked, inwardly wincing. He sounded catty. He hadn’t meant to.

Jade blushed. “And here I’d hoped tonight wouldn’t be embarrassing,” he laughed. Awkward as he made himself sound, his laugh was rich and natural and filled his voice till it poured over Adam’s skin. His long limbs sprawled irresistibly across his chair, and a black Adidas sneaker snaked out from under the tabletop only a few inches shy of Adam’s own leg. His casually gesturing arms flowed into the tilt of his chin, the thick, soft lines of his pale neck. “Muriel said she’d set up a date,” he told Adam conspiratorially.

Adam’s fake laughter didn’t convince either of them.

  
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

This story archived at <http://www.afislash.com/viewstory.php?sid=7329>  



	5. The Bombshell

Jade wondered why Muriel’s nephew looked so offended. The broad man slouched in his vinyl seat, looking deflated. Had he said the wrong thing? Maybe Adam was his date. Jade laughed out loud at that. Of course; Muriel had meant a friendly dinner. He’d been stupid to think it was a _date_ date.

Maybe Adam had recently had a break-up, too. Maybe that was why he looked hurt.

Oh, please. Jade could have laughed again. He didn’t, though. Laughing out loud without explanation once made him weird. Twice made him someone you back away from slowly with your hands in the air. Jade knew Adam’s type. He used girls, promised whatever it took to get them into bed, and never spoke to them again. The man exuded it. It was his nature. Some people were just scumbags.

Because Muriel had been right, because he _did_ feel better now that he wasn’t wallowing in the dark, Jade gave Adam the benefit of the doubt, as well as the benefit of his sociology degree. Probably Adam had been screwed over by a girl who had meant a lot to him, and that’s why he was a womanizer and a pig. He’d find the right one and settle down eventually, even if he would probably cheat on her with the young, leggy secretary. It was better that growing old and unattractive alone, and even guys like Adam realized it in the end.

“I just got out of a really bad relationship,” Jade explained. “Well—no—it was a great relationship. I loved Alex more than…” he trailed off. There was no need to pour his sob story out in front of a virtual stranger. Besides that, it was sad but true—Jade didn’t want Adam to think he was a wuss. Once an eighth grader, always an eighth grader. “Anyway, your aunt Muriel insisted I go out tonight. Sometimes I think that woman knows me better than I do. I know I just got here, but you’ve actually cheered me up a lot. Just by sitting there. I mean, you’re not my filthy apartment; I love you already.” Jade winced. That probably came out like an insult, or else a really creepy come-on. Trying too late to save face, Jade added hurriedly, “I probably misunderstood what she meant. Don’t laugh—I thought I was meeting a blind date. Sorry if you’re suffocating on my cologne. I never put it on, and whenever I do, it’s like I have to make up for all the days I haven’t worn it and accidentally douse myself. I have to be very careful around open flames. I’ll go up like a… like a guy doused in cologne, I guess.”

A laugh. That was all he was looking for. A laugh, so he could stop prattling on like a nervous idiot, which he was. But Adam was stone-faced.

“So, um, tell me about yourself,” Jade prodded awkwardly. Dinner would be a lot less painful if Adam spoke too.

The iceman thawed, at least a little bit. He told a story about his job that Jade had to admit was pretty funny. They ordered their food, a little self-conscious about the ridiculous names of their meals. They laughed, and talked, and by the time Jade finished his greasy onion rings he’d forgotten that Adam was a chauvinist sleazeball and was thoroughly enjoying himself. He was having fun.

Adam slurped his milkshake to make Jade laugh, and it worked. They’d been giggling enough that Jade’s mood had turned silly. It didn’t take much to get a smile.

“I’m relieved,” Jade confessed when his giggles subsided. “I didn’t think I’d ever meet you, I mean, but from what Muriel told me about you, I just didn’t think we’d get along.”

“Does my favorite aunt not flatter me?” Adam asked sarcastically, blue eyes still glowing from their last laughing fit. Grown men, carrying on and laughing like little boys—it was nice. It was really, really nice. Jade only ever had this much fun with Smith, and Smith had the bad habit of getting them kicked out of restaurants.

“Being the only relative within two hundred miles keeps me under constant scrutiny,” Adam went on, more seriously. “I guess my uncle’s family all lived out on the west coast, so she never moved back east to be with hers. So now I’m stranded in California with my crazy old aunt, and it’s too expensive to even call home. Anyway, I guess there’s this suck-up in her apartment building who makes most Boy Scouts look like Hitler.”

Jade knew that Adam had to mean him. Cheeks flushing with laughter, Jade expected his sides to burst. “That’s me, Adam!” he gasped when he could speak. “Oh, god, that’s me. That’s how I know Muriel. I—we’re friends!”

Adam’s whole face disappeared in a fervent blush. He hid it in his hands. “Oh, wow, I am mortified,” he moaned through his fingers. Looking up, he added sheepishly, “If it helps, Aunt Muriel thinks you’re this charming young man. I’m the one who thinks you’re a suck-up.”

“Surely you’ve come around to her way of thinking by now,” Jade teased. He couldn’t even remember having as much fun with Alex—at least not in the last six months or so. “I’ve been very charming tonight.”

The night went smoothly. Adam insisted on paying the bill, and Jade admitted to himself that the lecherous nephew was, after all, not so bad. In fact, he hoped to see him again, and soon.

Until things took a turn for the worse, that is. Jade knew he ought to expect such things by now, but he did not. Not even Superman would have seen this one coming.

“I had a great time tonight,” Jade said earnestly as they stood just outside the diner. The night air was cool; he put his hands in his pockets to keep his fingers warm.

“You say that like the night is over,” Adam said, a new quality to his voice, low and almost suggestive.

Jade wondered if Adam was teasing him again. He opened his mouth to say something awkward and half-laughing when suddenly Adam leaned in and stopped Jade’s lips with his own.

Jade stumbled back, escaping before the kiss was really felt, and for a moment was speechless. Then reality, the soft press of Adam’s lips with it, caught up with him.

“What the hell was that?” Jade yelped. He felt confused, propositioned, and angry. The halogen glow of a good evening was draining out of him fast.

Adam looked just as upset. “I should be asking _you_ that!” he cried, voice too loud. “We had a great night. You _like_ me, don’t deny that, and I certainly like you. But for some reason you’ve had me marked as un-date-worthy ever since you walked into the restaurant! What’s wrong with me, Jade? What makes you too good for me? I don’t get it!”

By the end of his speech, Adam was all but yelling. Jade was stunned. Silence descended and he stared into Adam’s eyes until his found his voice again.

“Um, nothing’s wrong with you,” Jade said unsteadily, mind still unwilling to comprehend. “You’re great, Adam, really. And I—I’m sure you’re very attractive, but—”

Adam looked shocked only for a moment. Then he yelled again. “So you don’t find me attractive? Is that it? God, not even _I’m_ that shallow! After a night as great as this one, does the way I look so crippling that you can’t even _imagine_ being with me?”

You can only stand passively and be yelled at for so long until something inside you snaps. Jade’s next words came out as a scream, and stopped everything.

“No, I’m _not_ attracted to you, Adam! And since you’re so fucking rabid to know, I’ll tell you why! _I—like—girls_!”

A stunned silence descended, and something in Adam’s eyes broke, finally understanding. He opened his mouth helplessly, as if with a question, and Jade repeated himself quietly, “I like girls.”

  
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

This story archived at <http://www.afislash.com/viewstory.php?sid=7329>  



	6. Do Not Pass Go. Do Not Collect Yourself.

Adam stood dumbly in front of the diner, fluorescent light bathing the sidewalk in consequences.

“I’m sorry,” Jade muttered, not meeting his eyes. He was approximately the color of a fire truck. “I really am. Dinner was… great.” Jade glanced up, eyes full of shame. Adam wondered dully why _Jade_ was embarrassed. Wasn’t that his territory? After all, Jade was straight, wasn’t he? _He_ hadn’t made a totally inappropriate move and incurably humiliated himself.

“I’d like it if we could get together again sometime,” Jade pressed on fearlessly, though clearly shaken by Adam’s stone-faced silence. Jade produced a pen but no paper; finally he grabbed Adam’s hand and scribbled down his phone number. A jolt ran through Adam’s body at the contact. Jade’s hand was callused and cool to the touch. It had been soft, during their handshake; but now that Jade’s grip was concentrated, he could feel the calluses of hard work digging into his palm.

Dropping Adam’s hand, Jade stood in front of him awkwardly. The silence built, and Adam stood stock still, barely breathing. Finally Jade gave up, breaking away and hurrying down the sidewalk. “Goodnight,” he muttered. Adam gave no sign of having heard.

Jade ducked around a corner, and Adam was left standing by himself. The chill of the night crouched around him, and the skin Jade had touched turned to ice.

“I am never going to want anything again,” Adam said aloud, tasting and knowing hurt. He had never been turned down before this. Of course, he’d never misjudged his quarry’s sexuality so badly. Adam shuddered, and it had nothing to do with the cold.

Adam wrapped his arms around himself, but it wasn’t enough. He needed someone else’s. Well, Adam Carson knew one way to get warm again; and without further ado, he went off in search of a bar.

He only had to walk a few blocks before he came to a neon-based bar. It was not his favorite place to pick up boys, but he’d been here before, and it would do for a drink. Get some blood flowing again and prepare him for the hunt.

He was sunk into three drinks and a bar stool before he started to feel like himself again. He could tell by the way he started scoping the room. The bar was overflowing with burly men and women in tight, spare, shiny things. There was almost nothing to his taste in the whole of the sweaty, smoky room.

A pretty girl perched on his right and bought him a drink. She started babbling, tossing her limp blond hair, and an idea formed in Adam’s head. Why not her? It had been years since he’d gone through the flower-buying hand-holding routine, and it was easy to imagine that it was relationships he hated, not the whole of the gender. Maybe he could like girls as well as Jade could. Maybe if he went home with—Stacy, was it?—his whole life could change. He could have one night stands with women and be friends with Jade, no problem. Maybe someday they’d laugh about that fateful night and their accidental kiss.

Adam’s stomach dropped, so he threw a shot down after it. Right. He’d just stop being gay so he could be _friends_ with one nice dinner. That sounded like something he’d do.

Just to be sure, he kissed Stacy by the pay phone, even groped her soft curves a little. But his heart wasn’t in it, and neither was the rest of his body. A kiss is a kiss, and Stacy wasn’t even a good one.

He barely heard her protestations as he made his way back to his stool. Let her think she wasn’t good enough, Adam thought, making no effort to explain his inactions. He was half-numb and felt hopeless. Oh, he cared plenty about sex; but he couldn’t forget Jade’s cool hands, his perfect but unresponsive lips. It would be hard to forget the feel of Jade’s laughter on his skin, his intelligent or clever comments, the light shining in his eyes; but he could certainly forget the two brief touches of Jade’s skin.

Finally, Adam’s eyes fell on the perfect victim. Nice ass in tight pants, hair that must have taken hours to style, Adam didn’t wait for the man to turn around. He knew he was perfect. Adam ordered two beers and brought one over to the stretch of counter his prey leaned on.

Adam set the beers down next to the slim man and said loudly, “I know it’s a futile offering to a god like you, but I bought you a beer.”

The man turned around smiling, but his face quickly fell. The eyes were a little familiar—a watery blue.

“You asshole,” the man said a little shrilly. “That’s the same line you used last time!”

Then it clicked. Trevor, the picnic guy. He took the beer off the bar and threw it in Adam’s face.

  
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

This story archived at <http://www.afislash.com/viewstory.php?sid=7329>  



	7. The Tender Qualities of Brotherly Love

Jade couldn’t get the smile of his face. If he just ignored the furiously awkward end of the night—how had Muriel failed to mention her nephew was gay?—it had been a near-perfect evening. He hadn’t thought about the wicked bitch of the West—formerly known as Alex—once. He’d been wrong about Adam. Maybe he was a scumbag, but he sure _seemed_ like a nice guy. Of course, he’d probably been hoping to score. So maybe it wasn’t an accurate representation of his character. But it had still been a good evening, except of course for the end. He wasn’t that lonely. Yet.

Jade wondered if Adam would call. Probably not—he wasn’t the calling type, Jade suspected. He was probably embarrassed half to death anyway. Jade wished he’d asked for Adam’s number. He needed a friend—hell, if he was going to get over Alex, maybe he needed more. But Adam was a start. Even if he was the special kind of prick who’d never call back, Jade would be happy to take the first step.

Maybe he was getting a little desperate.

Something occurred to Jade as he jiggled the key into his front door. Now, it was news to him that Adam was gay. He tried to remember if Muriel had said it was a woman she’d set him up with. Instead he remembered when Muriel referred to Alex as a bastard. It had been funny, then, but…

Muriel thought Alex was a man. And that meant Muriel thought—

Why would Muriel think? Did he—? Did Jade—?

Jade had Smith on the phone before he’d been home sixty seconds. The smile was replaced with possibly exaggerated urgency.

“Hello?” Smith answered. Jade could hear his noisy friends and what sounded like a violent video game in the background.

“Do you think I’m gay?” Jade demanded in lieu of a greeting.

Smith paused. The sounds of his friends grew quieter, as if Smith had walked away. “Well,” his brother said slowly, “do _you_?”

Jade was thrown off for a moment by the question. “What?” he finally asked, thinking about it in spite of himself. _Did_ he think he was gay? He dated girls. He slept with girls. He liked girls, whether anyone believed him or not. Of course he wasn’t gay! Why had he had to think about it? Jade shook his head. “No,” he added quickly. “I mean, no.”

“Then you probably know better than I do,” Smith said matter-of-factly. “I suppose we can devise some… tests if you want, but if you think you’re heterosexual and you have a history of heterosexuality, I’m afraid you probably are indeed heterosexual.”

Jade waved his hand, dissipating Smith’s deductive reasoning. “No, I don’t mean do you think I’m gay like that,” he said, irritated.

“Is that or is that not what you just asked me?” Smith asked in a long-suffering way, as if Jade was a retarded sibling he had been diligently caring for his entire life.

“Yes that’s what I asked you,” Jade snapped. “But what I _mean_ is, do I _seem_ gay? I mean, if you just met me now, would you think I was gay?”

“If you were asking me all these questions then yes, I would assume you were gay. And kind of a creep.”

Jade wanted to leap across the phone and put his brother’s head through a wall. “Smith,” he said tightly, a warning. “If you met me on the street and we had a normal conversation, would you think I was gay.”

“Are we in the Tenderloin? Because you’re a lousy hooker if you’re straight and picking up attractive men like me,” Smith said unhelpfully, sounding completely solemn.

Jade tried not to scream. He had to know. He had to know if he came off as gay, if he’d never meet a woman again because they all thought he liked men. He also wondered if the technology behind faxes would ever allow him to smack his brother remotely through the phone, but that was his second priority.

“Thank you, Smith, it’s been very educational,” Jade said tersely, and was about to hang up when his brother spoke.

“Wait, hold on, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize this was a life or death situation. I must have mistaken you for someone with a sense of humor. What’s going on?”

Some of Jade’s frustration leaked away, and he sighed. “Remember that date you dragged me out of the grave for?” he asked, sounding weary.

“She didn’t think you played for the other team, did she?” Smith sounded concerned, even if there was laughter in his tone. A rougher voice, lower and more coarse; but there was an echo of Jade in it nonetheless.

“No, _she_ didn’t,” Jade said, “but _he_ seemed pretty convinced.”

There was a perfect moment of silence before Smith’s control broke. The younger man went into an uproar. He laughed so hard Jade thought he might have an aneurysm, and crossed his fingers.

Gasping for air, Smith wheezed into the phone between bursts of laughter. “Your blind date… was… a man?”  
Once he got the sentence out, the laughter started up again.

“Oh, fuck you,” Jade said crossly. “If you’re not going to help me…”

Smith struggled to quiet himself. “Okay, I’m sorry,” he giggled. “I’ll help, I’ll help.”

“I just want to figure out why Muriel think I’m gay!” Jade cried, exasperated. His brother had a way of wearing down his patience. And his nerves.

“Um, it might have something to do with the fact that you go on dates with men,” Smith spat out his coup de grace only seconds before he started laughing manically. Again.

Jade, having had enough, hung up the phone.

  
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

This story archived at <http://www.afislash.com/viewstory.php?sid=7329>  



	8. Crab Rangoon and Other Things

Adam didn’t make it to the bed. Beer-soaked, more than a little drunk, and celibate for the first Friday night in recorded history, he fell onto his couch and into self-pity.

Why did Aunt Muriel hate him? That was the question of the hour. Did she suspect how he really felt about her? Did she disapprove of his lifestyle? Maybe she was bigoted. A lot of old people were. Maybe she wanted to make him miserable because she secretly hated gays.

That miserable old bitch was out to get him! She had set him up with an intelligent, attractive, well-dressed straight man on _purpose_. She hated him.  
Well, see if he every showed up for lunch again! The conniving old bag could _rot_ for all her cared. May her dentures grow mildew. May her hair all fall out. May her cane be thrown in front of an oncoming train! This was his gratitude.

And that sneaky bastard Jade! Had he been in on it, too?

Adam hesitated. Bitterness and ranting was one thing. But could he really believe Jade had deceived him? He remembered too clearly the look of puzzlement on Jade’s perfect face, and the genuine sorrow of their frozen farewell. No, Jade was an innocent. He had to be. Why else would he have given Adam a phone number?

Paranoia kicked in with a vengeance. Unless it was all part of their evil plan. Unless it was a fake number! They were scheming to do to him what he did to all his men. Adam paled. That was it. If he dialed the number, it would doubtlessly be a Chinese takeout place.

Who the hell did this Jade think he was, anyway? Before tonight, Adam’s charm had never faltered. He’d certainly never kissed any _girls_. He’d been nothing but happy with himself until Jade swooped in with his conscience-arousing powers and ruined everything.

Adam made up what was left of his mind. He had to know. He was going to call the evil bastard’s fake number because, on the off chance it was real, he’d have the chance to tell Jade what a scumbag he really was. And, also, Chinese actually sounded pretty good right now.

Adam picked up the phone and looked down at his palm. It must have been the beer that sweated in his hand, and Adam cursed Jade, himself, and everything else.

The number was gone.

  
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

This story archived at <http://www.afislash.com/viewstory.php?sid=7329>  



	9. Saturday

Jade swayed atop a giraffe as it loped across the plain. A ziggurat swelled on the horizon, and the giraffe headed towards it. When they reached it, the giraffe knelt gracefully. Jade slipped lightly to the ground and said, “Thanks, André,” before entering the temple.

At first, he saw nothing. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, Jade saw an altar, laid with candles and rose petals. Goosebumps rose on his skin and Adam stepped forward out of the darkness. “I’ve been waiting,” he said softly. “Everything is ready for you.”

“Even you?” Jade purred.

“Especially me,” Adam replied with a smile. Jade fell into his arms without hesitation, flowing into Adam’s smooth skin, coming up snug against his muscles. It was right and warm and good, and Jade sighed happily. Adam turned his head and their lips met.

Jade awoke with a start, pale and a little sweaty. What in hell? Images swam through his head, vague and jumbled—something about a giraffe, and Adam’s face clear in his mind, bright eyes gleaming, smile perfect. What kind of dream had he _had_?

One thing was certain. He was never eating before he went to bed again. Not if it led to strange dreams about a man he barely knew, and a giraffe whose name he suddenly remembered to be André.

Maybe it was a good thing Adam (probably) wasn’t going to call. Maybe, if he was the kind of guy who was just going to turn around and have crazy Adam-giraffe dreams, it was better to never have to face Adam again.

Jade couldn’t shake the strangeness of his dream, but he tried. It was just too weird to wake up with a standard morning erection thinking about the man he’d had a date with last night. If things kept up like this, even _he_ wouldn’t be sure he was straight anymore—it was true that his pattern of observable behavior didn’t look too good. Jade shuffled into the shower, still shaking his head.

Jade rubbed the kiwi-strawberry shampoo Alex used to buy into his short hair and let his mind wander in its usual direction. What was Alex doing right now? Ever since she left, it was the most important question he had. Usually he could imagine her carefully making pancakes, a smear of flour on her cheek, or singing along to the radio as she drove to work, or her sleek smooth skin made slick by her shower gel, her head tilted back, the hollow of her throat exposed… Nothing. Jade tentatively poked the open wound that Alex was. When nothing happened, he jabbed at it—and then stuffed his hands inside and tore through it, looking for anything. Anything to feel. Where was she right now? In someone else’s bed, probably. Same place she’d been all along. But he wasn’t angry. He found he didn’t care, not today. Here was a typical woman who loved him, lied to him, and left—and it didn’t stir a single whit of emotion from him, when yesterday the mention of her name would have him in tears.

What was going on? He’d never felt so sure or secure about anything in his life. It was over, and Jade felt it resonate deep in him. It was very much over. Alex was part of his life that was done.

He rinsed the suds out as closure set in. It had never happened like that before. He wallowed in his los for months. It was his way. It wasn’t until he met someone knew, months or even years later, that he felt it really click inside him—a door closing, a definite ending, an age over. Alex had left him less than two weeks ago. Had he simply not loved her enough? Why else would the door to how he loved her and how he hurt swung shut so seamlessly, so smoothly, that he couldn’t even feel the cracks?

Jade laughed to himself, a little giddy. It wasn’t that; oh, it certainly wasn’t that.

Another thought occurred to him as he stepped out of the shower. What was Adam doing this morning? Right this second, had they been showering in synchronicity? He loved the electric idea of sharing a moment with someone and never knowing it. What kind of shampoo did Adam use? Thanks to Alex, all the products in Jade’s shower smelled like some kind of food. Did Adam have proper masculine shampoo? Old Spice, maybe? It was the only manly scent Jade could think of—it’s not like sweat and gasoline was something they were going to bottle and make you wash your hair with. Suddenly Jade was perversely interested. What _did_ Adam’s hair smell like? What did—

Jade caught up with his runaway curiosity in the nick of time. He didn’t care, he reminded himself. He couldn’t care _less_ what Adam’s hair smelled like. It certainly didn’t matter to him!

By the time he was toweling off, Jade almost believed it.  
He had high hopes for the day. Saturdays were not his best thing. A lot of the time he’d just get lonely. Alex had always spent Saturdays with her friends, and it was Muriel’s bridge day. The problem with Jade being lonely was that within half an hour, it’d turn into depression. He didn’t have anywhere he could go to hide from it. Well, he could drive to his parent’s house, and he did that sometimes, but it was always far worse than being depressed in his own home would have been.

But today wouldn’t go that way. He had today all figured out. This Sunday, it wouldn’t be a miracle he hadn’t killed himself. He was going to spend the morning curled up on his patio and dig into his newest stack of library books. Then he’d make lunch and play his guitar for a while, until Smith showed up. They were going to drive into San Francisco. There was a show Smith bought tickets for two years before his own birth, or something excessive and unbelievable like that. They’d been planning it ever since Smith realized neither of his parents were stupid enough to let him borrow their car, let alone let him drive into Stickshift Hell Capital of the World, otherwise known as San Francisco. Being able to drive wasn’t the best reason to score an invite, but it was plans on a Saturday night. Jade had no complaints.

Jade even mustered a hum as he sailed out of the bathroom and towards the kitchen. Take that, yesterday’s Jade, he thought to himself. I am not _nearly_ as pathetic as you are.

Jade was delighted to find he’d already made a pot of coffee that morning, although he really, really didn’t remember doing it. He shrugged it off and poured a cup for himself, sniffing the air. He loved the smell of fresh coffee—but not the other thing he smelled. Alex’s perfume? The reflex, a smile, was halfway across his face before he realized why that was strange. The apartment shouldn’t smell like Alex anymore. Smith had made him air it out when he’d gotten a whiff of the weird foot smell. Her perfume should’ve blown out the window too.

“That’s weird,” Jade muttered under his breath. He held his coffee like a shield, edging towards the living room, mouthing silent prayers to god. There were a thousand perfectly good explanations for the smell that didn’t even involve Alex, and he prayed for them. He prayed that there was a very good-smelling burglar in his living room. He prayed that there was a gas leak that smelled like lilac. He prayed for a brain tumor wreaking havoc with his olfactory bulb. Really, he’d take anything, as long as—

Jade poked around the corner and there she was. Alex was in his living room.

  
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

This story archived at <http://www.afislash.com/viewstory.php?sid=7329>  



	10. Calm Thoughts

“Um, ah, um,” Jade said, frozen in horror as he stared at her.

Alex pushed her long black bangs out of her eyes, smiling nervously. “Hey, baby,” she said softly. Her green eyes were wide, ringed with neat black lines of make-up. Her rosebud lips quivered in her uncertainty, and she waved with a tiny white hand.

Jade’s breath caught in his throat. She was beautiful. A vivid green sundress hugged her small body, matching her eyes. Her close-cut black hair, bangs grown almost to her chin, made her look even more like a pixie. This was the girl he loved, and he knew it when he looked at her, even if he didn’t feel it. She had always been too beautiful for him—like a firefly, or some iridescent moth, something tiny and glowing you could hold for a while, but had to let go someday.

Well, he had let go. He loved her, but she had hurt him too finally, too fatally. Maybe he was a defeatist. The problem wasn’t forgiving her for cheating. One look at those green eyes and he was putty in her hands. He’d do whatever it took to make her happy—but he couldn’t heal the hurt she’d dealt him. He couldn’t fix himself well enough to stay with her. Whether or not he wanted to be treated better, he needed to be.

He tried to say all this with his eyes, because all his mouth could manage was her name. “Alex,” he said, sounding strangled.

She put her little hands over one of his large ones, almost desperately. She held tightly, and let love fill her face. “I had to see you, kitten,” she half whispered.

“Did you come for the shampoo?” Jade finally managed to spit out.

Alex looked thrown off for a moment. “I came because I love you,” she said, voice airy and a little shrill. Jade realized she was nervous.

He didn’t particularly feel like making anything easier on her, though.

“Is that why you’re sleeping with someone else?” he asked innocently. When Alex’s mouth flopped open, sexy as a suffocating fish, Jade pushed on. “I’m not sorry I didn’t trust you, anymore, even though I said I was. And if you hadn’t left, I would have asked you to.”

“No, you wouldn’t have,” Alex found her voice, and she was half laughing now. The sweet appeal to him was over. Now she was taking the but-I-know-you-so-well approach. “That’s not who you are, Jade. I broke things off with Peter—that’s what I came to say. I came to say I can’t stand to live without you!”

Jade took a sip of his coffee and swallowed too loudly. He tried to think calm thoughts. “The shampoo I could have given you,” he said quietly, even though he wanted to scream.

Alex gave him yet another blank look. Hurt, rage, any of those would have been okay—guilt, maybe, though Alex wasn’t the type for remorse. She did righteous indignation much better. But she was baffled by him. She just kept flashing her stupidest look. It made her less attractive, and Jade found himself grateful for it. If he could just keep her confused, then maybe nothing would happen, maybe the dead fish would give up and leave him alone.

“I can’t let you move back in,” Jade explained himself. He knew she wasn’t prepared to deal with an assertive version of him, a Jade with a backbone. He had never said no to her—to anyone—before.

“I don’t understand,” Alex said slowly, wringing her tiny hands, green eyes flooding with tears. Tears were like kryptonite to Jade. He didn’t know what to do with them, since they were radioactive space rocks that crippled him, but the instinct was to abandon heroics, leave humanity to its own fucking devices, and run. He wondered if Superman ever had that problem. “I love you, Jade!” Alex was saying.

Automatically, mind still clinging like Superman’s tights to the last of his calm thoughts, Jade replied. “I love you too, Adam,” he sighed, “but—”

“ _Adam_? Who the hell is Adam?” Alex interrupted shrilly. This is when the righteous indignation really came in handy.

But Jade was frozen, the taste of Adam’s name heavy on his tongue. What had he said? Had he really just—

Totally inconsiderate to the fact that he was trying to _think_ , Alex was flipping out. “I asked, who the _fuck_ is Adam?” Alex demanded, voice climbing several decibels. Dogs probably had a much easier time understanding her than he did by this point.

Jade didn’t know how to answer.

  
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

This story archived at <http://www.afislash.com/viewstory.php?sid=7329>  



	11. The Old Woman That Hell Spat Back Up

Dawn cracked and Adam was on Muriel’s doorstep. His eyes were veined with an unflattering spiderwebbing of red, and his mouth felt as if he’d eaten a beach. Two hours of sleep and here he was, wedged in limbo between drunk and hungover, beating down his great aunt’s door and prepared to ruffle a few feathers.

It was a tiny girl, who made him think of fairies, who let him into the building, although not without winking. Even Adam had to question her standards if she’d winked at the crackhead version of him; he smelled like a strip club and looked like an escaped mental patient, in dirty, wrinkled, beer-stained clothing, with wild eyes and hair and a leer plastered onto his face under the ragged stubble. He was not a pretty picture, but she’d winked, and held the door for him.

He’d never understand women.

It seemed to Adam that Aunt Muriel took her damned time hobbling to the door. Maybe she wanted to make him squirm. Or maybe she glimpsed him through the peephole and called the police. He really was a wreck.

Finally, the old bag unchained her front door and swung it open.

“It’s a little early to be up, don’t you think?” Aunt Muriel asked thinly, not exactly overjoyed at the sight of him. Her wispy hair was tight in curlers that her shaking hands lined up a little less neatly every day, and her bathrobe was clutched around her. Faded pink slippers enveloped her feet, and stiff from sleep, she leaned heavily on her cane.

Adam faltered for a moment. It was hard to believe that the trembling puff of a woman before him was truly corrupt. She didn’t _look_ evil.

“Well, if you’re coming in, come in,” she said in the same coldly polite voice, limping away from the door. Being dragged out of bed by her beer-soaked disgrace of a nephew had not really contributed to her already sunny demeanor.

It became easier to imagine her as evil when she barked, “Close the door behind you. You smell god-awful.”

Adam sat down at her kitchenette table, brooding. He felt the hangover begin to set in with a high buzzing in his own head and a wave of fetid nausea.

Muriel leaned on her cane, giving him a hard look and a frown. “What in hell happened to you?” she asked, disapproval shining in her eyes. Apparently her earlier attempt at politeness had been for the benefit of the hallway, not her nephew. Adam nodded to himself. Yes—she was a sick, twisted old woman. No matter how deceiving the packaging, this was doubtlessly his foe.

“ _You_ did,” Adam declared devoutly, bound to his cause. Feeling illustrative, he went on, “Before you stands a victim—yes, that’s right, a _victim_ —of your cruel machinations! Before you stands the innocent prey of your heinous schemes! Your unpardonable crimes! Do you not recognize _your own handiwork_?”

Adam’s voice had risen in passion, and he thought his theatrics were pretty good, but Muriel was unimpressed. She quirked one eyebrow and frowned at the child having a tantrum in her kitchen. That look made Adam even angrier.

“You can hardly blame me if Jade wasn’t what you’re looking for,” she said with a sniff. “I don’t have to do nice things for you. And I can certainly stop choosing to.”

Adam felt his hands squeeze into fists as he stood, sending his chair crashing to the linoleum, something he tried hard not to feel at least a little bit bad about. “Look at me!” he yelled. “Are you happy now? You had your fun; you humiliated me! I’m a mess, Aunt Muriel, you foul beast of a woman! I got a beer thrown on me! And all of it is your fault, you—you—possessed old hag! Why don’t you just crawl back into the pit that spawned you and—and leave nice people like me _alone_!”

Now Muriel was ticked off too. Her nephew was not nice people. Her nephew was not even allowed to _speak_ to nice people, or at least shouldn’t be. Her voice was level, irritated, and very, very stern. “Adam James Carson, _what_ are you going on about?”

That gave Adam pause. He suddenly felt twelve years old and he dropped his eyes to the floor, abashed. He half-expected her to say ‘shame on you’ and send him to his room, and he was in fact a little ashamed. If he’d had a room she could send him to, he’d probably be hiding under the bed right now. He’d yelled at a helpless old lady, who was so small she could fit on the head of a pin. He’d come into her home at an unreasonable hour and verbally assaulted her. And she was the only family she had on the whole damn coast. And she’d been nothing but sweet to him.

There was always the possibility she was telepathically imprinting this remorse on him, since his thoughts had a certain ring of her words, but if she could read minds, it would be a bad time indeed to have more evil thoughts about her. Besides, he’d knocked over a chair, for god’s sake. Couldn’t he control himself at all? Couldn’t he behave like a reasonable adult just this once?

He winced as his head began throbbing double-time. How did she always make him feel so… so _bad_?

He tried to explain himself rationally, the latest outburst welling up to join the rest of the quiet, festering hatred he kept at the pit of his stomach. It was a place he could store the run-off of these embarrassing, passionate moments, resentment he could invest in himself and watch as it grew. Just in case he needed to totally freak out and overreact later on. It was like having a trust fund.

“You set me up with Jade to get back at me for being such a sleazy bastard,” Adam said more quietly, staring at his toppled chair. “And I was humiliated, so now I am angry.”  
Muriel’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “To get _back_ at you? Adam, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I thought you’d like Jade. He’s a very nice young man, and not a bad piece of ass, as far as I can tell.”

It never ceased to mortify him when his great aunt said things like that. Adam hesitated, second-guessing himself. Was he mistaken? Maybe it was too far-fetched, too diabolical. But how in hell was he going to back down? He certainly couldn’t apologize to her. She was his nemesis. “You mean it wasn’t… I mean, you didn’t… it wasn’t an elaborate set-up to embarrass me?”

Aunt Muriel kept looking at Adam as if he’d grown a second head. “I’m not denying you’re a sleazy bastard,” Muriel told him, “but I’m not plotting against you. Although you make me wish I was, sometimes.”

Adam didn’t know what to say to that, so he fixed his gaze back on the chair. Then he felt stupid, and bent over to right it.

When he looked up again, Muriel was fussing with her teapot. Putting the kettle on the stove, she offered Adam a brilliant smile. He felt like the luckiest man in the world to see that smile. He’d given her a hell of an opportunity, but she wasn’t going to make a fool out of him. She was going to make her tea and smile at him! Maybe she felt he’d done a good enough job on his own, and didn’t need her help. Yeah—that was probably it.  
It was very hard to hate her when she did things like that.

They sat in silence, Adam growing more and more uncomfortable, waiting for the hammer to fall. Instead, the kettle began to scream. Seeing Adam flinch like a machine gun had drop-kicked him in the face, Muriel proffered a pack of instant coffee and a mug of steaming water. “For the hangover,” she explained, dunking a teabag in her own mug. Feeling the kittens lacquered on his mug, Adam felt a little more guilty. He wouldn’t be having this coffee if he’d smashed the kitten things, would he?

“Tell me what happened,” she said soothingly. Aunt Muriel had never been a maternal figure in his, or anyone else’s, life. He was so startled that it all started spilling out of his mouth. Before he’d finished his coffee, he’d vomited out the whole sordid affair. Even the part where Trevor threw beer in his face. Letting her hear about that was sort of an apology for the horrible smell, because they didn’t make Hallmark cards that say “I know I’m rancid, but at least I can provide an amusing visual of I’m making your kitchen stink”.

Muriel made the appropriate clucking noises throughout his heart-wrenching tale. This was Jade’s Muriel, Adam thought to himself. When he had finished, he was little breathless. He felt a hard, sharp heat in the back of his throat that was difficult to swallow around. Was he about to cry? It had been so long he couldn’t tell.

Aunt Muriel laid a knobby hand over his. “What a rough night,” she said kindly, but that was the extent of her sympathy. Curiosity took over, gleaming in the eyes that mirrored his bloodshot ones. “But I find it very difficult to believe that Jade likes girls,” she added speculatively. “He never struck me as the type.”

“If you didn’t know for sure, why’d you set him up for me?” Adam asked piteously, voice breaking.

Aunt Muriel patted his hand. “Well, I guess I never saw him up close, but I always assumed that Alex of his was a man.”

Adam laughed weakly while Aunt Muriel explained that her eyesight just wasn’t what it had been. He felt the lump claw up his throat.

“I’ll have to give him a talking to,” Muriel had just said when the thing burst, hot and wet and choking in his mouth, his throat, all the way down into his lungs and stomach. Adam broke into sobs; big, heavy, shoulder-shaking sobs like he hadn’t let out in years. Muriel stood and put her hands on his shoulders, letting him lean his forehead into her chest while he cried.

Slowly, his sobs dissolved into hiccups, his hiccups into horrible choking gasps of air, and when he could breathe without a death rattle, Muriel stepped back. Her robe was soaked with tears and snot and Adam was about to apologize thickly when they heard the screaming.

  
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

This story archived at <http://www.afislash.com/viewstory.php?sid=7329>  



	12. The Confrontation

“If you’ve been cheating on me, you bastard, I’ll kill you!” Alex screamed, grabbing a coaster off the coffee table and throwing it at his head.

Jade was yelling back. “Cheating? On you? You were doing enough of that for the both of us!”

Alex threw another coaster. Jade ducked. Her face was red, screwed up in fury. Her petite frame vibrated with rage.

“Then who—the fuck—is Adam?” she snarled, crossing the small room and leaning close to Jade’s face while she screamed.

Jade wanted to read his book. He wanted to sit on the patio and forget about the world. He wanted to stop thinking about Adam. What he did not want was to explain the last night’s events at the top of his lungs for the benefit of his psychotic ex. That just wasn’t on the list.

“None of your business!” is what he settled for yelling. It was the abridged version.

Alex let out a wordless screech and started beating her miniature fists against his chest.

Jade put a hand on either shoulder and pushed her back. Not hard; if she’d been in a better mood, he’d have picked her up and set her down out of arm’s reach. He didn’t want to hurt her, just make her stop hitting him. Given her screaming fit, he knew it would be the wrong thing to do.

So, apparently, was the push.

Alex’s delicate frame shook and her face neared purple. “If you _love_ a _guy_ , _I think it’s your girlfriend’s business_!”

Jade crossed the room in a few brisk steps and opened the door to the hallway. “You are _not_ my girlfriend,” he said coolly. His voice was startlingly calm in the ringing wake of all the screaming. “It is absolutely not your business who I do or do not love. You forfeited that right. Now please get out of my house.”

“I have a key, you bastard!” Alex bent at the waist as if it made her scream louder. Apparently she wasn’t finished yet. Jade stood stoically next to his door, highlighting the way out. He felt like an airline stewardess. “I will _not_ leave until you tell me who Adam is!”

Jade repeated quietly, “Please leave the apartment.”

“No!” Alex shrieked. He’d never seen her so angry. If this was how you were supposed to react to cheating, he had majorly screwed up. There had been no screaming when he’d found her with Peter-from-the-office. He’d turned on heel, walked out, and very quietly gone home to cry. She’d yelled, packed her things, and left. It had not been a confrontation. He had not been angry, only hurt. Destroyed, even.

“Do you love this Adam? Are you _fucking_ him? How long have you been with him?”

Her screams just didn’t stop. And then Jade snapped. He crossed the room so suddenly she flinched away. He grabbed her key ring off the coffee table, jerked his key off of it, and threw the remaining keys at her feet. “If you do not leave, I will make you,” he hissed. Alex froze but made no move towards the door, and Jade found he was done waiting. He grabbed her arm just above the elbow, not hard enough to hurt but hard enough she couldn’t break free, and began fighting his way towards the door. Alex stumbled, but didn’t dig in her heels. She didn’t struggle, even when Jade pushed her bodily out the door. He thought it was over. He thought it was, at last, done with. But just as he was about to slam the door behind her, Alex spoke again.

“Who the fuck are you?” she demanded. Jade looked up to see an audience in the hallway.

“Hi. I’m Adam,” Adam introduced himself helpfully.

  
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

This story archived at <http://www.afislash.com/viewstory.php?sid=7329>  



	13. Surrender

Alex was running at Adam, little fists flailing, before Jade had time to process the situation. Adam, looking like hell and smelling worse, and Muriel, in a soggy bathrobe, standing just outside the door. Any illusion of the apartment having thick walls was dispelled. Jade was a little embarrassed about how loud the volume had been when he’d watched Legally Blonde last night.

And then Alex was on him. She grabbed the collar of Adam’s shirt and demanded, “Why the _hell_ did my boyfriend just say he loved you?”

Adam was a little startled. Not just by the girl who had winked launching herself at him in violence or by the argument he’d overheard, or even by his own uncharacteristic bout of emotion, but by what she was yelling. Loved him? Jade, who did not like boys, who gave him a (maybe) fake number, who barely knew him at all, _loved_ him?

Adam mulled it over. It was true that, despite his current, sad, lifestyle, he could see himself with Jade. Not for one night—but for a good, long while. He could see himself changing. He could see Jade being the thing he’d been looking for all along. He could even see himself loving Jade, loving Jade so well it would make everything he’d felt for Hunter almost insignificant by comparison—someday. Maybe, someday, he could see himself loving Jade, but certainly not within twelve hours of their first botched date. And if Jade was really so insane as to think he was in love already—well, there was a reason god invented warning bells, and this was it.

While Adam thought this through, the winking fairy girl smashed her hands all across his sternum and solar plexus. He was beginning to think she was a little crazed. What had he gotten himself into? The amount her fists hurt, though, he was a little surprised she could lift a purse. The guys he brought home could hit harder than she could, and most of them couldn’t arm wrestle a wet noodle.

When Adam had had enough of being hit, he swept her arms to one side and wrapped his fingers around her wrists. He held them with one hand and fixed her with a Muriel stare.  
Just like that, she quailed. The yelling stopped.

“Jade,” Adam said calmly, still holding the girl’s wrists together. “Is that true?”

“What?” Jade asked weakly. Now that the girl’s attack had shifted, Jade was sagged back into the doorframe. He looked defeated.

“Do you love me?” Adam asked, trying very hard to sound neutral. The girl’s eyes flicked between them.

“No, I mean, of course not!” Jade said all at once, blushing like mad. “I just, I mean, I had this dream about you, and then I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and I said your name instead of hers—” Jade probably would have kept babbling indefinitely had Adam not interrupted.

“Do you love her?”

Jade paused. “Yes,” he said finally, “but not like I used to. We broke up for a reason, and without a time machine, there’s no way to make things right between us. It isn’t about love anymore.”

Jade thought for a moment and went on, speaking carefully, as if every word were new to him, as if there was a limited supply of them. “It usually takes me a very long time to get this kind of closure. I realized this morning that I was okay with my relationship ending, and I was surprised. Really surprised. I thought that maybe it was a sign of maturity, or maybe I’d finally found some piece of mind. But that’s not it. It’s you. I… I got over her the moment I laid eyes on you, Adam.”

Adam stood perfectly still. Jade had screamed ‘turning point’ to him. But he’d never imagined he could change—change enough to want this. To hear Jade’s slow, deliberate words and flood with hope.

“I’m not gay,” Jade went on, and something twisted in Adam’s gut. “Or at least, I’ve never been with a man. I don’t think I’m…” He stopped talking, and looked up, suddenly fierce. His eyes were drowning deep, and Adam felt himself go under.

“I don’t know what I am, or what it means. But it’s you, Adam. You’re the one I want.”

Adam’s world ground to a halt. Or rather, it started moving for the first time in years. It had found an orbit.

Adam dropped Alex’s wrists almost unconsciously. She stood there stunned while Adam closed the distance between he and Jade. Jade fell wordlessly into his arms and this time, when their lips met, he didn’t fight it. With all of himself, he gave in.

  
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

This story archived at <http://www.afislash.com/viewstory.php?sid=7329>  



	14. Epilogue

It seemed to Smith that he had either the best timing in the world, or the worst.

“I knew it,” he said out loud, barely aware that he was speaking. “I always knew you were gay.”

His older brother broke away from the kiss he was deep in. His eyes were starry and dark, and it seemed to take him a moment to register who Smith was. He was breathless when he spoke. “What?”

Smith nodded, feeling a little faint. If Jade was happy, he was happy. He loved who Jade loved. But no matter how long he’d seen it coming, it was still a little unexpected. “You heard me, Puget.”

A smile broke out over Jade’s face. It was the mirror of the man whose chest he was pressed against. “And you couldn’t have told me about it any sooner?” he asked, but it was laughter instead of irritation in his voice. Smith shook his head, still in disbelief, and caught the eyes of the cute black-haired girl Jade used to date. She looked like Jade had broken something in her brain.

Someone nudged his shoulder. He looked to his left and saw a grinning old lady. “I knew it, too,” she whispered, eyes gleaming.

Smith loved her instantly.

  
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

This story archived at <http://www.afislash.com/viewstory.php?sid=7329>  



End file.
